


French

by Cumvore, Slither-the-least (baeberiibungh)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Percival, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumvore/pseuds/Cumvore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/Slither-the-least
Summary: “Draw me,” says Credence to Percival. “Draw me like them,” he says again…





	

**Author's Note:**

> To my best girl Mac on her Birthday. Love ya babes.

The room is messy, piles of plates with rotten food sitting in a corner attracting a fine blanket of flies to it. Clothes are thrown into a heap in another corner. The bed is filthy, stains and marks spread out through the once white bed sheet. Percival is in his skin hued wifebeater and a cigarette dangles from his lips, the tip a bright red from which grey curls of smoke keep rising into the air. In his one hand is a colour mixing palette and in the other, a brush making wide strokes on the half-full canvas before him. There is another brush that is wedged over his left ear. Beside him is a table overrun with colour tubes and more brushes and chipped mugs and glasses of paint water. His glasses are near the tip of his nose, but he is too busy drawing to fix it.

There is another sofa to the side of the room, more of a studio. The sofa is old faux leather and also shows splotches and stains on its muted orange skin. There is a boy lying on the sofa, naked, one leg dangling off the sofa and swinging as he watches Percival bring down his brush down repeatedly onto the canvas. It just looks like some swatches of colours put together, but Credence was aware of Percival’s talent, knew that Percival would turn those mismatched patches of colour into something breathtaking. Credence’s one arm is folded under his head, giving him some leverage from the sunken pit of the sofa and with the other he lazily runs his nails through the hair below his navel.

“Are you hungry?” Percival suddenly asks. 

“Is cock on the menu?” Credence asks back cheekily.

“Hmmmm, maybe later, you cum fiend. I am asking about human food right now,” Percival answers with a frown.

Credence pouts at the slight reprimand. He mumbles out, “Pizza is ok,”

Percival points at the bedside table on which sits his mobile and wallet with his dripping paint brush and says, “Order one large meat lovers pizza for me and get whatever you want. And then put your clothes back on. You know those delivery people don’t come here. You will have to get them from the block over.”

“Also they cannot see the definitely not legal boyfriend getting pizza at the door of the old genius painter known for going after legendary pussies only,” Credence states as he gets up from the sofa and stretches slowly. 

Percival snorts at that, but when Credence looks up at him, he is looking rather hungrily at the young man. With a roll of his eyes at how much of a whatever the other end of a cum fiend Percival is, and a smile, Credence quickly pulls on his jeans and one of Percival’s dirty t-shirt littered on the floor. He zips himself up, makes the call for the walk in orders, takes money out of Percival’s wallet and with a quick smack to Percival’s bicep, walks out of the room, looking detestably delectable with his tousled hair and cock plumped lips and eyes that are always a challenge to own him. Percival stares at the door for a few seconds before starting on his painting again. He is feeling particularly inspired at the moment. Percival secretly thinks that it might be Credence who is the source of his new art, but has not said so to him yet.

Credence returns after 20 minutes, laden with three pizza boxes. He shuts the door, makes some space on Percival’s working table because there is no other table in the room apart from the small bedside one, which is actually an inverted wooden crate box covered with a cloth. Credence takes the last two clean plates from the cupboard and brings them over, with one fork. Percival always eats his pizza with a fork and not with his hands like how Credence likes. Percival putts his brush into the least dirty paint water cup and comes up to Credence. He wraps his hands around Credence and then kisses his nape. It is more sensual than the smack Credence had left him with. He nips at it once more before letting go and setting down to eat. Both pile up their plates with slices and sit on the unmade bed to eat.

“What are you drawing?” Credence manages to ask, his cheeks bulging out with his too big bites.

“I am not completely sure yet. This is more of an abstract work. This is just the background anyway, I still have a lot of work to do on this,” Percival replies. He continues with, “This is the third time this week you have ditched school. Has your mother still not noticed?”

Credence waves a nonchalant hand and says, “Maybe she has, maybe she hasn’t, it’s not like we are major into communicating. I am sick of school anyway. It’s just stupid people teaching more stupid people stupid things. I like it much better here.”

“Credence,” Percival says, with a clear note of warning in his voice. “People cannot be looking for you and then finding you naked here as you ditch your clothes the second you are in. It is too dangerous. I don’t want you to get in trouble credence,” Percival adds.

“I am _always_ careful, you don’t have to worry about it,” Credence says sullenly, looking like a sulking squirrel. He continues, “Anyway, I am turning 18 soon so it won’t be that big a pain in the ass for you so much. I will forge a note from mom, don’t worry.”

Percival sighs and then takes another bite. It will be much better when Credence turns 18. That crazy mother of his always manages to keep Percival awake at night. He has seen the scars Credence carries on him, realizes one of the reason that Credence likes being naked near him is the reaction of absolute and immediate acceptance from Percival over them, if his constant kissing them is any indication. 

Percival thinks about just reminding him once again just to be sure, but then Credence is rubbing his foot along Percival’s thigh and their half eaten pizza gets abandoned as they proceed to do more fun things on the bed.

Afterwards, as both lie on the bed, Percival definitely lying on a wet spot, arms curled around each other in a loose nuzzle and snuggle, Credence asks, “What are you going to draw next?”

“Some body study maybe. I have to practice my sketching. My lack of models have been unhelpful too. I have some reference I want to work through, I think I will start from them for now,” Percival says.

Credence turns to look at the pictures stuck on the bare brick wall. All are black and white photos, some more grainy than others. From afar, they just look like blobs of pale and more pale colours washed out. The whole wall is plastered with those pictures. Credence cannot make them out from the bed lying contentedly in Percival’s arms, but he knows what each picture shows – he had spent hours before them just looking while Percival amassed his collection to cover his study wall. Credence is rubbing his thumb over Percival’s nipple, not because he is angling for another go ( although truth be told he will not say no in spite of his soreness), but because it feels calming to him, like how Percival finds it soothing running his hands through Credence’s thick head of hair.

Credence leans into Percival and whispers, as if it is a new confession instead of a prayer that Percival is thrust with every day. “Draw me,” says Credence to Percival. “Draw me like them,” he says again, not needing to point out what he means, because Percival already knows. Credence ends his invocation with, “Draw me like Dahmer’s flesh sculptures, please Percival, tell me you will, someday, one day, just like those pictures. Say you will, Perce, say you will.”

“I will draw you better. Twist and turn you, break your bones when they don’t move like I want you to, tear off bits and pieces that do not fit and I will splay you and display you and draw you just like you deserve to be,” Percival promises, the words oft repeated by now enough to sate the dark crevices of Credence’s dark soul. 

Credence smiles into Percival’s skin then, happy. He is not sure if Percival will ever be able to kill someone, but he does hope fervently that Percival will be able to surprise both of them with some romantically appropriate bejeweled cutlass or perhaps even a lowly penknife. Credence stretches himself along Percival’s side, like a cat content in sunlight, and licks at Percival’s skin. Percival hums to himself in pleasure. He is lucky, Percival thinks to himself with a smug twitch to his lips, so very, very lucky to have come upon Credence when he did, to mould him and manipulate him till his fall into Percival’s depravation was all but guaranteed. Oh, Credence already had that perfect blend of character that would have pulled him long, but under Percival’s careful hands, Credence has become a piece of art worthy of being displayed in Louvre.

He is definitely better than those French ladies on display.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. No Beta. Comment and Kudos please!


End file.
